THE stars are twinkling in the sky,
As to the pit I go;
I think not of the sheen on high,
But of the gloom below.
Not rest nor peace, but toil and strife,
Do there the soul enthral;
And turn the precious cup of life
Into a cup of gall.
The Stars Are Twinkling
Joseph Skipsey
(2)
Poem topics: life, peace, sky, soul, precious, high, strife, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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